Frosting and an Ugly Sweater
by IcelandGirl812
Summary: Thigh-highs and lazy Saturday mornings. Trophies and streaking. The Snow Miser and a triple dog dare. Love as drabbles, for Erin.
1. Frosting

**For you, Erin. Because you're always sweet, so kind, funny and never afraid to share your opinion. Some of these are kinda Christmasy, so we'll go with: Merry (late) Christmas/Happy New year, sweets!**

**Thanks to Stebby for the summary help! And Erin for supplying some of the prompts, heh**.

**Prompt - Frosting**

**Disclaimer: I own some cinnamon roll frosting. But no Twilight.**

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I made the best damn frosting.

Everybody knew that.

You didn't _mess_ with Bella Swan and her frosting.

But, apparently, Rosalie Lillian Hale hadn't gotten that memo.

Bitch.

She thought she was all that and fifty bags of potato chips.

Thought her long legs and flashy jello-pouchies would steal Edward Cullen from my grasp.

_Hell_ no.

That fucker was mine.

I had a claim, dammit.

Everyone knew that.

Everyone except Rosalie Lillian Hale, it seemed.

Bitch.

I baked a cake for the Kid's Charity Carnival, with my trademark best frosting, of course.

She made sugar cookies. _With motherfucking frosting_.

Bitch.


	2. Comfortable

**Thank you, Rachel, for the prompt! You're a doll.**

**Prompt - http:/bit[.]ly/khn8rL  
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**Disclaimer: I own a cough. SMeyer owns Twilight.**

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Comfort with someone was a strange thing.

And I could tell the exact moment when he felt truly and totally comfortable with me.

I came back from getting toast and coffee and some strawberries on a lazy Saturday morning.

And walked into our room to find him on our bed.

On our bed completely naked except for his glasses.

(Yum.)

Glasses he rarely wore period, let alone in front of me.

He was sitting there, looking cozy and just... comfortable.

And reading a comic book.

I stopped in the doorway, suspended there as I watched him.

Marveled at him.

(And not just his lovely nakedness.)

Eight months together, and he was finally comfortable enough with me for this.

Comfortable enough to completely be himself on a relaxed weekend morning.


	3. Tape

**Prompt -**** http:/bit[.]ly/gT73u0**

**Disclaimer: I own a lot of pillows, and not Twilight.**

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When you pull tape off, it hurts.

I didn't think Grandma Marie would get to feel her tape pulled off.

I didn't think Grandma Marie would be here to get her tape pulled off.

I didn't think Grandma Marie would feel it even if her tape got pulled off now.

The people in coats kept whispering about chances.

And how bad stairs were for 'people of age'.

I tried not to pay attention to their whispers.

Daddy always said whispering was rude.

Most of my attention went to noticing how Grandma Marie started to _become_ the color of her sheets.


	4. Hate

**I adore Rachel for giving me prompts like this one.**

**Prompt - http:/bit[.]ly/ic3Ajp**

**Disclaimer: I own a lot of books. SMeyer owns Twilight.**

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Tired.

So tired.

Tired of living, of being.

Of hiding.

Every time I walked inside my apartment now, inside home and safety and comfort, all energy would drain from me.

I wasn't good at this. I wasn't the type who normally hid stuff.

And I hated it.

Hated that I'd become that.

Hated that I'd _had_ to become that.

Hated that I'd become that to protective myself.

Hated that I'd been selfish enough to become it in the first place.

Hated that I wasn't any good at it.

Hated that it drained me.

I'd never been so full of hate.


	5. Surprise

**Another prompt a la Rachel. I heart you, love!**

**Prompt - http:/bit[.]ly/gLvbNO**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any thigh-highs. Or Twilight.**

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Old thigh-highs and old, barely-there dress.

He'd remember both of those.

Remember exactly where they came from.

Remember the first time he ever saw them.

New heels, though.

I'd bought them just today.

For just this.

A special surprise, waiting just for him when he got home.

He'd walk through the door, and the thigh-highs and dress and heels and _me_...

We'd all assault him.

And then, maybe, he'd attack us.

After the memories, of course. They got first dibs at him.

I'd have my chance after them.

My chance to stall and start and surprise.

A scuffle, cutting off my thoughts. The sound of a key in a lock.

Door opening, footsteps inside, door closing.

Halting.

No breathing.

"Hi."


	6. Forget

**Prompt -**** http:/bit[.]ly/hG9nzv**

**Disclaimer: I own several pairs of earbuds. Not Twilight, though.**

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It's Christmas time again.

You used to love Christmas.

I remember when November would come. You'd say it was almost December.

And then Thanksgiving would pass. And you'd know it was almost time.

December 1st would get here, and you'd be as bright as the sun glinting off the ocean.

Nothing would be left un-glittered by your Christmas magic. No space left without the brush of your loving touch.

But that was then. That was before. It's not anymore.

Sometimes I like to pretend I can forget you.

Sometimes it helps.

Mostly I pretend I'm okay.

I'll always miss you.


	7. Keepsake

**Prompt - Keepsake**

**Disclaimer: I own like three trophies. SMeyer owns Twilight.**

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Twelve years ago, she'd given me the trophy.

I'd never had a trophy.

Now, I had about twenty or so.

But back then, I was too uncoordinated, shy and insecure to have won a trophy.

So she'd gifted me one.

Two weeks later, someone had decided to drive home after bar-hopping.

And I'd lost her.

I still had her trophy.

Still stared at it and thought of her, talked to it like she could hear me.

She hadn't been a sports-player, but she'd knitted furiously.

I'd treasured it, despite thinking a knitting trophy was too geeky for a thirteen-year-old boy.


	8. Exhibition

**Prompt - Exhibition**

**Disclaimer: I own a pile of clothes atop a suitcase. Not Twilight.**

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I'd been created this way.

Why was it wrong to flaunt how I'd been made?

It was only natural.

A person shouldn't be arrested simply because they enjoyed nature.

Simply because they wanted to display their natural beauty.

It was _wrong_.

This cell was _wrong_.

That thing they called a toilet was _wrong_.

Having cockroaches in the corners feeding on donut scraps was _wrong_.

The smelly dude sitting three feet from me was _wrong_.

Them confiscating my new Italian Loafers was _wrong_.

Stupid cops.

Stupid laws.

What's so wrong with sharing your unpolluted beauty with the world?

Nothing, I say.


	9. Train Wreck

**Prompt – Train Wreck**

**Disclaimer: I own a cough. Still. SMeyer owns the Twi-vamps. Still.  
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They'd called me a train wreck.

All my life, from the time I was thirteen onward.

Friends, family, gossipers, random strangers I didn't even know.

Each of them had called me a mess, flighty and not worth anything.

The majority had, no doubt, believed it.

Well, I'd showed them.

My apartment overlooked Central Park, had more space than the biggest mansion in my hometown.

My CEO paycheck put even their inheritance's from grandparents to shame.

My husband had been featured in several magazines, not just for his good looks.

But most of all, I'd overcome them, and everything they were.


	10. Santa

**Prompt - http:/bit[.]ly/hsOki0**

**Disclaimer: I own some choc-covered cherries. But not Twilight.  
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Oh sure, of _all_ the pictures taken, _that_ was the one they saved and posted all over the office.

And yet people wondered why I was such a scrooge who refused to volunteer for shit.

You volunteer, you put yourself out there, and people take advantage.

Make fun.

But how could I have said no?

Not when the Girl Scout (with her gorgeous "troop leader") had waltzed into my office.

And proceeded to use her blue eyes, and the leader's suggestive wink, to get me to play Santa for charity.

So I'd agreed.

And then been laughed at _again_.

Fuck.


	11. Impromptu

**Prompt - Impromptu**

**Disclaimer: ****SMeyer owns Twilight. I just own these words.**

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I was the Snow Miser.

And she was my Heat Miser.

My heart had been cold and frozen, affecting the rest of my everything.

But then she slid into my life on an overheated, almost tropical sleigh.

Warming any crack and crevice she came near.

Thawing my everything with her being.

And, sometimes, with her body.

What I found most amazing: she did it without trying.

For months, actually, she'd started my defrost without even knowing.

She'd completed it the day we touched for the first time.

Touched with deliberate intent and purpose.

That one moment was my total up-fall.


	12. Sweater

**Prompt - http:/bit[.]ly/gv8QXG**

**Disclaimer: I don't own hardly any ugly clothes. SMeyer owns Twilight.**

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Some people are just ugly, ya know?

Not really their fault.

Mostly their parents'.

And their genes.

Now, when an ugly person dons an even uglier sweater?

Totally their fault.

Which, when you're a photographer, and supposed to be professional, makes your job difficult.

Because, of course, you want to laugh your ass off.

But, you can't.

Since that would be rude and unprofessional. And stuff.

_You _try being a professional photographer, with an unattractive person in a hideous sweater, and watch them pose like an antisocial dork.

And attempt not to laugh.

Go on.

I triple dog dare you.


End file.
